Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  “You don’t mind if I alter it a bit,” said Louise. “Mrs. Warmer is a gem—that soufflé was perfect—but obviously she doesn’t understand fires. Too much paper for one thing.” Quickly her hands altered it, piling the sticks criss-cross and topping the heap with a few small lumps of coal. “A fire needs lots of air,” she explained putting her head on one side and regarding the result of her work with satisfaction. “One match should do the trick.”

  One match did the trick. The paper was set alight, the little flames leapt up and the wood began to crackle.

  Bel had sat down in the low chair beside the fireplace and Louise leant against her knee. For a few minutes they watched the fire without speaking.

  Presently Louise bent forward and put on a log. “D’you remember the log fires at Drumburly? Lovely, weren’t they?”

  “Lovely.”

  “It was a happy holiday, wasn’t it?”

  “It was bliss,” said Bel. Every day, every hour of that wonderful holiday which she had spent with the Armstrongs at Mrs. Simpson’s comfortable hotel was clear in her memory and would always remain so. The long walks over the hills where the heather was in flower, sweetly scented in the golden sunshine; the river flowing past beneath the windows of the hotel, its gentle splash and gurgle lulling her to sleep . . .

  “You remember Alec Drummond?” asked Louise.

  “Yes, of course. I liked him immensely. Where is he now? Do you ever hear from him?”

  “I’ve had several letters—and I went up to London one day and met him for lunch, but—but afterwards I wished I hadn’t.”

  “Louise! Why?”

  “He keeps on asking me to—to marry him,” said Louise in a very low voice.

  Bel was not surprised. Alec Drummond had been staying at the hotel and had fallen in love with Louise. It was by no means unusual for young men to fall in love with Louise but Alec had done so in a spectacular way—head over heels.

  “I keep on saying no,” continued Louise after a little silence. “I thought I had made him understand quite definitely when I saw him in London, but I had another letter from him this morning.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “At Loch Boisdale,” said Louise. “Fishing, of course. He never does anything else—you know that, don’t you? He says in his letter that he expects to be in London next month and he would like to come down to Ernleigh for a week-end. He says any time that would be convenient. He says he wants to see me.” She hesitated and then added rather wistfully, “It’s an awfully nice letter.”

  “Do you want him to come?” asked Bel.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Louise. “At least—yes—I’d like to see Alec, but of course I couldn’t possibly have him for a week-end.”

  “Why not, Louise?”

  “Oh because,” said Louise, trying to explain. “Because it would be too long. He would just get silly again if I had him in the house for a whole week-end.”

  Bel hesitated. Then she said, “You like Alec very much, don’t you?”

  “Of course I like him!” Louise exclaimed. “Alec is a dear. If only he were a little more keen on his business and a little less keen on fishing . . .”

  “You would marry him.”

  Louise sat up and looked at Bel defiantly. She said, “Yes, I would—so there!”

  “I wonder——” began Bel in doubtful tones. “Don’t you think perhaps—I mean it seems such a pity, doesn’t it? Oh darling, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t know—what to do,” declared Louise with a little catch in her breath that was almost a sob.

  “You’d like to see him, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would. Of course I want to see him, but I haven’t changed my mind. It isn’t fair to let him come to Ernleigh, is it?”

  “Perhaps we could have him here for the week-end,” suggested Bel. “He could go over and have lunch with you or something. How would that do?”

  “Yes—perhaps,” said Louise thoughtfully. “That might be quite a good plan . . . but I’m not sure that it would be fair to let him come at all.”

  “Ask him to come as a friend. You could do that, couldn’t you? You could make it quite clear that you would like to see him—but only as a friend. Tell him that you can’t have him for the week-end but that we’ll be delighted if he will come to us and he can go over to Coombe House to lunch.”

  “Would it be fair?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You think I’ll change my mind,” said Louise accusingly. “But I shan’t change my mind. I’d rather marry Reggie.”

  “But Louise——”

  “Yes, I would, really. Reggie works hard and he takes pride in his work—but as a matter of fact I don’t want to marry anyone. I’m quite happy with Daddy.”

  “I know,” agreed Bel, “but all the same you’d like to see Alec, so why not——”

  “You think when I see Alec I’ll change my mind. Oh yes you do. It’s no use trying to pretend things to me.”

  Bel knew this, of course. As a matter of fact she was not very good at ‘pretending things’ to anyone. Her face was the sort of face that discloses its owner’s feelings only too clearly. She said, “It’s just that I like Alec so much, and it seems——”

  “You think it’s silly of me to mind about fishing, don’t you?” demanded Louise.

  “No, not really,” said Bel thoughtfully. “It isn’t so much his keenness on fishing that worries you, it’s his slackness about his business. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “It’s both. To Alec fishing is much more important than business. You saw that for yourself when we were at Drumburly.”

  “He was having a fishing holiday,” Bel pointed out.

  “Alec’s whole life is a fishing holiday. He just goes from one place to another fishing all the time; when he isn’t fishing he’s shooting. He told me himself that his business gets along quite well without him.”

  “Perhaps it does.”

  “Listen Bel,” said Louise earnestly. “I couldn’t possibly marry a man I didn’t respect—a man I couldn’t be proud of! You’re proud of Ellis so surely you can understand.”

  Bel understood. She loved Ellis dearly; she admired him for his integrity and his tireless industry; of course she was proud of him.

  “People ought to work,” continued Louise. “Not when they get old, of course, but when they’re young and strong. There isn’t room for idlers and playboys in this modern world. People ought to find a job that suits them and stick into it and do it as well as they possibly can. You agree, don’t you, Bel? Tell me honestly.”

  “Yes, of course I agree.”

  “I don’t like slackers; I despise them,” said Louise. She added in a voice that was little more than a whisper, “I despise Alec.”

  After that there was silence for a long time.

  *

  2

  Louise went up to bed early, for she had had a tiring day getting everything arranged at Coombe House before her departure. Bel sat by the fire for a little while longer thinking of all that had been said. It was a pity about Alec Drummond—he was such a dear—but it was no good at all if Louise felt like that about him . . . and of course Bel agreed with her friend. It was not enough to have a husband you could love, you must be able to admire him as well.

  Presently Bel got up and tidied the drawing-room—she hated to leave it in an untidy condition for the night—she put on the guard and made sure that all the doors and windows were securely fastened. This was Ellis’s task, of course; he had made her promise to see to it herself in his absence and not to leave it to Mrs. Warmer.

  As she went up to bed Bel paused on the half-way landing and listened to the silence. She loved the silence of Fletchers End. Then, after a few moments, she heard the old house whispering to itself . . . a curious sighing sound, a gentle creak . . . all the little secret sounds that an old house makes at night! You could imagine that you heard the rustle of a silken gown—but you kne
w it was really the soft night air in the leaves of the aspen tree outside the staircase window.

  Bel heard another sound as she went on up the stairs; no ghostly sound this, but the splashing of water in the peach bathroom. She smiled to herself and knocked on the door. “Are you enjoying your bath?” she called.

  “Blissful!” was the reply.

  “Don’t hurry,” said Bel.

  The injunction, kindly meant, was quite unnecessary. Louise never hurried over her bath. She was one of those people who delight in soaking for long periods in hot water. She was fond of saying that a hot bath was one of the pleasures of the civilised world—a simple pleasure perhaps, but none the less enjoyable. She was fond of saying that if you were worried or anxious you could soak it all away in hot water. Louise was enjoying her bath more than usual to-night—not only because it was such a pretty bathroom and Bel’s violet-scented bath salts had such a delicious fragrance—but chiefly because there was no danger of interruption. At home there was always this danger. There was always the uncomfortable feeling that just at the moment when you had lowered yourself slowly into the lovely hot water the telephone-bell might ring. This did not happen very often of course, but it had happened more than once and Louise had been obliged to leap up and answer the summons, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.

  Here, at Fletchers End, there was absolute peace.

  “Hurry? Not blooming likely!” said Louise to herself. She turned on the hot tap and let the water trickle slowly into the bath to warm it up.

  *

  3

  The week-end passed very pleasantly. The two girls talked to their hearts’ content. Every night Louise had a long luxurious bath and emerged pink and relaxed; every morning Mrs. Warmer brought her breakfast in bed. Several times the telephone-bell rang and Louise leapt to her feet and then sat down and laughed.

  One of the telephone calls was from Ellis who was anxious to know if all was well and if Bel was remembering to lock up securely before going to bed. He said the weather was very pleasant and he would give Bel all the news when he got home on Monday night.

  The weather was very pleasant at Fletchers End also. On Sunday the two girls went to St. Julian’s in the morning and for a run in Louise’s little car in the afternoon. On Monday Louise went home to Coombe House.

  It was sad to part from Louise—Bel had enjoyed every moment of her visit—but it was joyful to welcome Ellis home. He arrived at his usual hour on Monday evening and having greeted one another rapturously, as if they had been parted for weeks, they settled down to talk. In answer to Bel’s inquiries Ellis said his mother was well and happy in her new home. She had been to several concerts and had joined a bridge club and was seeing her sister nearly every day.

  “It’s a success?” asked Bel anxiously.

  “Yes, it’s a great success. The bungalow is very nice indeed.”

  “When is she coming to stay at Fletchers End?”

  “I asked her that,” said Ellis smiling. “But she can’t fix a date. She’s helping to run a bazaar and she’s frightfully busy. The telephone-bell rings all day and she’s dashing about the place like a two-year-old.”

  “I hope she isn’t doing far too much!”

  “The bazaar is a God-send,” declared Ellis. “She’s getting to know lots of people; she’s getting thoroughly dug-in.” He laughed and added, “Mother is never happy unless she is doing far too much.”

  “Ellis!”

  “It’s true,” said Ellis seriously. “That’s why it would have been a great mistake for her to come to Shepherdsford. She would have been bored stiff in a little place like that. I know you thought it was rather unkind of me to veto the idea of Mother coming to live near us, but I happen to know her rather well, and——”

  “I didn’t think it unkind. It was only——”

  “Yes, you did—and I know the reason why. You thought it would be nice for Mother, because if you had been Mother you would have liked it. But you aren’t Mother; you’re quite a different sort of person. You see, Bel,” said Ellis very seriously indeed, “if you undertake to make plans for other people it’s absolutely essential to understand what the people are like. That’s where Louise goes wrong.”

  “Louise is a darling!” exclaimed Bel.

  “Yes, of course she’s a darling. I’m very fond of Louise—you know that. She’s very sweet and very amusing, she’s one of the kindest people on earth, but she’s just a little too keen on making plans for her friends.”

  “Louise makes very good plans.”

  “Yes, sometimes they’re very good, but not always. It’s because she thinks other people are like herself.”

  “You mean she doesn’t understand other people?”

  “She thinks other people are like herself,” repeated Ellis. “So of course she thinks that what would be delightful for her would be equally delightful for them.”

  Bel was silent. It was a new idea to her but she saw that there was a good deal of truth in what Ellis had said.

  “There are lots of people like that,” added Ellis.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The weeks passed quickly. The Brownlees settled comfortably into their house and loved it more every day. Of course there were still a good many things to be done, Ellis wanted more room for his books and was putting up some shelves in his study; Bel wanted new curtains. The curtains which had come from Rose Hill had been hung up as a temporary measure but they were not really suitable, so Bel had decided to make new curtains herself and had written to London for patterns.

  The large parcel containing the patterns arrived at Fletchers End one morning and Bel rang up Louise to ask her to come over and help to choose them; Louise said she would come after tea. Meanwhile Bel and Mrs. Warmer decided that they had better measure all the windows.

  It was while they were thus engaged that they saw a man walking about in the garden and gazing up at the house.

  “I wonder what he wants,” Bel exclaimed.

  “He’s got no business to be there,” declared Mrs. Warmer. “Such cheek! He looks as if the place belongs to him. I’ll run downstairs and tell him to go away.”

  “I think I’d better go and see what he wants.”

  The man was still there when Bel went through the glass door on to the terrace, still standing and gazing about in an interested sort of way. Now that she saw him properly she was pleasantly surprised for he was tall and good-looking with very dark hair and a brown clean-shaven face. When he saw Bel he came up to the terrace to speak to her.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Of course I’ve no right to come in and look at the place like this, but I’m interested to see what’s being done. This house used to belong to me; I’m Roy Lestrange.”

  “Oh, of course!” exclaimed Bel. “We bought it from you—but I thought you were in Hong Kong.”

  “I’m home on leave,” he explained. “I didn’t really mean to bother you but I’m staying for a few days with my cousin at Oxford and I couldn’t resist coming over and having a look at the old place, so I managed to borrow a motor bike—and here I am. I used to stay here with my aunt when I was a boy.”

  “It must be sad for you.”

  “Sad?”

  “I mean to have had to sell Fletchers End.”

  He smiled in a charming way and said, “I haven’t very happy memories of Fletchers End—if that’s what you mean. Aunt Helen was a bit of a tartar. I used to stay here in the holidays when my parents were abroad and I was always getting ticked off for muddy shoes and dirty hands—you know the sort of thing. Of course I can see now that it must have been pretty sickening for Aunt Helen to have a small boy dumped on her for the holidays but I didn’t see it that way at the time.”

  It was at this moment that Mrs. Warmer appeared in her usual sudden and unexpected fashion, and asked if the gentleman would be staying to tea.

  “Oh yes,” said Bel. “Yes of course. You’ll stay and have tea won’t you, Mr. Lestrange?”


  Perhaps she did not say this very warmly for she had had no intention of asking him to tea and most certainly did not want him (Louise was coming to look at the patterns for the curtains and there would be no chance of looking at patterns if this young man were here) but Mrs. Warmer had forced her hand. What could she do but tender the invitation?

  “No, really,” said Roy Lestrange. “It’s very kind of you, but I only meant to look in and see the old place——”

  “It’s all ready in the drawing-room,” said Mrs. Warmer hospitably. “I’ve only to boil the kettle and that won’t take a minute.”

  “Oh well—thanks awfully,” he said. “If you’re sure it won’t be a nuisance. I must say a cup of tea would be very pleasant.”

  *

  2

  As he followed his hostess into the drawing-room Roy Lestrange drew in his breath with a gasp of surprise. “I say!” he exclaimed. “This used to be rather a dark room in Aunt Helen’s day!”

  “We made a bow-window,” explained Bel. “And of course we trimmed the creepers and cut down one or two trees.”

  “I hated this room,” he continued. “I suppose it was because I had to be on my best behaviour—sit quietly and not fidget! I escaped to the kitchen whenever I could; they liked me in the kitchen. I suppose you’ve altered a lot of things in the house?”

  “Yes, we had to,” said Bel. She was finding it difficult to respond for she was never at her best with strangers (she could chat to Louise by the hour, but with strangers she was practically dumb). In addition to this she was not very ready to be friendly with this young man because of the shameful way he had neglected Fletchers End. Other people might have disguised their feelings and produced a flow of conversation but to Bel this was impossible. Fortunately her guest had plenty to say.

  “It will take some time to get the garden into order,” he continued as he sat down in the big arm-chair. “Of course I ought to have had a man in once a week or something, but to tell the truth I never thought of it—and even if I had thought of it I couldn’t have afforded to shell out money to pay him. It was as much as I could do to pay the old caretaker, Mrs. What’s-her-name, to keep the place from going to rack and ruin.”